


my arms were always around you

by neilperries



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, I wrote this at 5am forgive me, Morning cuddles to break up the tension, Not Beta Read, Spencer Reid Needs a Hug, angsty with a bit of fluff as a treat, canon divergence slightly, drinking as a means of coping, it's 2016 again time to love mgg, other characters just as mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24018520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neilperries/pseuds/neilperries
Summary: The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and he regards you with a soft unreadable expression. One that portrayed a multitude of emotions you were too inebriated to comprehend. Swallowing thickly, you rub your hands over your eyes, moving them up to smooth out your hair, and then turning your tired gaze back to his form. His eyes were dancing over the scene in front of him. The open bottle, the Netflix screen begging you to answer the question of ‘are you still watching?’, the blanket that you had kicked off during your nap, the open box of Chinese takeout on the kitchen table just a few feet away. He drops his bag, and kicks off his shoes haphazardly. You half expect him to hightail it to the bedroom, so when he takes a few long steps towards you, and more or less lays himself on top of you, you are taken aback- whether it be in a good or bad way you weren’t sure yet.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 76





	my arms were always around you

**Author's Note:**

> hi hi hi!! it's madison coming at you with my first (published and finished) fic <3 with quarantine being a thing i've fallen back into a hole of rewatching criminal minds and it seems like others are in the same boat as me, so have this 5am drabble of hurt comfort fluff angst!! it's truly all over the place, so i am so so so very sorry about that.
> 
> enjoy my ramblings and please stay safe and stay home (if you can)!
> 
> this takes place some time after the eps green light and red light in s12, so if you haven't watched to that point there are some light spoilers ahead! please beware of that! this also acts under that assumption that spencer is more fixated and has visited cat prior to the event in red light, so please just go along with that out of canon fact thank you<3

Weekends were reserved for Cat Adams you had come to learn. That becoming the new routine, the new normalcy. As Spencer’s life partner you’d come to understand and respect that, had come to understand that she had become a heavily unwelcome fixture in his life, and you could only do so much to help ease his woes and worries when it came to her. That didn’t mean the bed felt a little too big, and a little too cold on the days and nights he was gone. That didn’t mean that when he was gone you didn’t sit up late, and stare at the door, biting your nails until they bled knowing that he wouldn’t be coming home and you’d have to eat dinner and sleep alone once more.

It should be something you were used to considering this happened often before a specific incessant female unsub entered the cushy lifestyle you and Spencer had built together. He’d be gone for days on end in Seattle, Nashville, Detroit, working kidnapping cases murder cases and other horrors that bled out of the woodwork of society. But this was different. She was different. On the days he was home he was distracted. His eyes glazed, voice faraway. Any attempt you made to rouse him out of whatever trance she put him in never worked. He would just simply kiss the inside of your wrist, and whisper away your concerns until they were gone. Until they just came back a week later.

It was another quiet, lonely night. The type of night that called for drinking too much wine, and watching too many episodes of a show you’d already seen three times before. It’s not like you were really watching it though. Sure, your eyes were on the screen, you registered people talking and moving, but nothing stuck. It was all just white noise. That’s not to say anything was actually happening in your mind though. The wine had numbed your senses, and quelled whatever dark, dangerous thoughts you had. Thoughts about Cat Adams. Thoughts about Dr. Spencer Reid. Thoughts about yourself. Thoughts you’d rather entertain when sober, when you are in the right frame of mind to deal with those possibilities and problems.

You wondered if Spencer was sat up in the same situation as you. Drinking some soothing tea, reading or watching TV, thinking about you. When was the last time you crossed his mind? Maybe it was selfish or apathetic of you, but you wondered if he even cared anymore. Before Cat inserted herself in Spencer’s life, there were plans for a future. With a white picket fence, some kids, and a more stable and sure job for Spencer. One that came without the current issues they were facing. You knew Spencer would not commit any act of infidelity, you knew he wouldn’t purposely hurt you, and you knew voicing your problems would mean you would work through them but there was a part of you that wondered if he’d even listen now or was he too deep in Cat’s fantasy world that you weren’t even a part of his big brilliant genius brain anymore. Of his occasionally bleeding heart anymore. That future you looked forward to, had begun to plan for, had all been washed away and scrapped in a mere instant.

Between your own self pity, and the drinking of an entire bottle of white bubbly wine, you must have fallen asleep. Because the door clicking open startles you awake, your frame jolting to action, pushing yourself up into a seated position on the plush worn leather couch you and Spencer had bought at a flea market a few months prior. It had only been a year since you moved in.

(You and Spencer were as he called it ‘going steady’ for only two years before he popped the question. It was a hazy morning. The type of morning that called for sleeping in late, and lazing about for the entire day. Drawing circles and other nonsensical patterns on his back, your fingernail tracing and leaving behind a light pink line that was sure to fade in just seconds. He hadn’t woken up yet, and you were just admiring his features for as long as he was going to stay asleep. Knowing all too well that if he was awake he’d just give you a strange look and tell you to stop looking. Your clothes already took up about half of his closet, blouses and long summer dresses that fell just near your ankle stuffed among his copious amounts of sweaters and soft vests. His dress shoes sat beside your assorted heels and sneakers. He’d told you once how he admired your lack of a specific style- which would be a backhanded compliment if you weren’t already used to how blunt and honest Spencer Reid was. How you could easily dress yourself up, but also wear the most casual ensemble in the world and still manage to make it look like something straight out of Vogue. You had just punched him lightly on the arm and told him you were surprised he knew what Vogue was.

“You’re staring,” Spencer’s groggy sleep thick voice cuts through the air, snaps you out of your reminiscing and into the present.

“And?” You retorted, settling in beside him nestling your body back up against his own. Spencer was a lot like a heater, and you were a naturally chilly person. Match made in heaven. Pressing your freezing cold feet up against his calves, you tack on, “am I not allowed to stare?”

He makes a noise when your feet come in contact with his skin, and breathes out a laugh through his nose, “not when I’m asleep and unassuming. If I didn’t know you already I’d be inclined to call you a stalker.”

“You’d be lucky to be stalked by me, Spencer Reid,” you respond with a feigned gasp of indignation, “I’m going to make some breakfast and then head back to my place to grab some more clothes for this week. What do you want to eat?”

Your mention of heading home perks him up. He sits up just enough, and hovers over you slightly, pinning you to the bed with just his eyes. There seems to be gears working in his head as he obviously digests and works through some internal crisis. You are patient though, waiting it out and searching his face for the unvoiced solution to whatever problem he was facing. It was also too early for him to be concerned with something, and as far as you knew, his phone hadn’t yet rung calling him into the office. 

“Do you want to move in?” he suddenly asks, voice breathless and portraying that he had meant to say something more meaningful, more impactful but had thrown formalities out the metaphorical window and just outright asked you for what he wanted- for what he hoped you might want too.

You mull it over for a moment, realizing you basically lived at his place anyways, and that this was the right next step for you two. That this was you two moving at a good pace, a right pace with the right person. With a slow spreading grin, and a twinkle to your eye you nod twice and drag him down for a bruising kiss that was sure to keep you two tied to the bed for at least the next hour. And maybe one more after that.)

Now, sitting up on the couch, face mushed by the drunken nap you had just been taking, and staring at the man whom you dearly loved, the man you had committed yourself to- albeit not in the married sense, not in the legal sense, but you knew you wouldn’t have anyone else in the world that he was your endgame even if now you weren’t so sure he was yours- you hardly recognized him. His tie was always slightly crooked, but it was halfway off at this point. His hair had grown out some, but instead of being styled to look messy it was just downright unruly and at the point of needing some sort of trim. The eye-bags under his eyes had gone back to being prominent- when they had cleared up some before this whole Cat Adams business came about, when his smile had finally begun to reach his eyes, when he seemed to have some sort of control over his life finally- and his normally fairly maintained scruff had gotten a little out of sorts.

You’re sure you looked no better. You hadn’t taken off your makeup before popping open the bottle of wine earlier, and you could feel the clumps of mascara forming under your lashes. Your mind felt fuzzy, and your mouth was dry and tasted like clay. The sleep lines on your face were sure to be prominent as you could feel all the ridges from the couch on your cheek. So, you both looked a bit worn out and rough around the edges. Once again, proving you two to be a match made in heaven.

The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and he regards you with a soft unreadable expression. One that portrayed a multitude of emotions you were too inebriated to comprehend. Swallowing thickly, you rub your hands over your eyes, moving them up to smooth out your hair, and then turning your tired gaze back to his form. His eyes were dancing over the scene in front of him. The open bottle, the Netflix screen begging you to answer the question of ‘are you still watching?’, the blanket that you had kicked off during your nap, the open box of Chinese takeout on the kitchen table just a few feet away. He drops his bag, and kicks off his shoes haphazardly. You half expect him to hightail it to the bedroom, so when he takes a few long steps towards you, and more or less lays himself on top of you, you are taken aback- whether it be in a good or bad way you weren’t sure yet.

“Spence?” you question gently, his name hanging heavily in the air, weighing down on the both of you as he formulates a reply for his sudden need of affection and you await a proper tell all response.

“Just need to breathe for a minute,” he tells you, and that was acceptable. He hadn’t done this in a while, and the familiarity of his figure pressing down on you, and fitting against your own like two puzzle pieces eased whatever worries you had. 

Minutes pass with you two just laying there and breathing. Both of you alternating between long inhales, and soft exhales. A sharp short breath in here and there, and a shaky long release of that breath following every so often. Your hand had somehow traveled up to the nape of his neck, playing with the soft slightly damp curls there. Was it raining outside? Or was it sweat? You were too preoccupied to really care about what the reality was. His face had found a home against the space where your shoulder met your neck, his lips every so often pressing a barely there kiss to the skin there reminding you that he was there too and that he was real- maybe even reminding himself of the same thing you realized. That you were real and tangible, and not some hallucination he had dreamed up.

After the minutes turn into nearly an hour, you bring your hands up to the sides of his head, pressing up and forcing his face up to look at you in the eyes. He props himself up with his elbows on either side of you, hands splayed beside your own head, and right pointer finger scratching at the fake leather beside your ear. The noise would be annoying if you weren’t so laser focused on the state he was in, and focused on receiving the answers you deserved.

“What did she do to you? Say to you?” you beg quietly, the accusations and assumptions of what may have happened cutting through the air and tension between you two like daggers.

“Nothing new,” he confirms averting his gaze away from you and to a spot on the floor. You shift so that he has no other choice but to make eye contact with you. This conversation didn’t feel like any of the others you might have had. It felt more important. It felt heavier, deeper. It felt like a turning point.

“Spencer,” you push, tone biting and sharp which causes him to relent just a bit.

“Nothing new,” He reconfirms, but adds on, “it was nothing specific but it’s the way she says things. It’s like she means to get under my skin. Like she wants to push every single one of my buttons until there’s nothing left to press and I’m moments away from blowing a fuse.”

“You’re home early,” a full day early you realize, and he averts his gaze once more but you allow it as it’s just a second before he turns his too sad too tired eyes back onto your own, “something must have happened. Please, Spence, just tell me.” You were begging him now, desperation in your voice. It was breaking your heart to see him so destroyed, so defeated.

“She almost killed my mom,” he whispers into the air, and you suck in a sharp breath, eyes immediately welling with tears. He shuts his own eyes as he continues on, “tried to convince me she was pregnant with my child. Got into my head and tried to make me feel… guilty for things that I shouldn’t feel guilty for and now I can’t stop thinking I feel like my head is going to explode. Like… What if I could have done more for Gideon? For Morgan? There are all of these people in my life that I thought had left me, but in reality what if I pushed them away? What if I’ve had it backwards this entire time, and I know all relationships are a two way street, but what if I’m the reason for all of this abandonment all of this coming and going of the people that I love and care about? What if I’m the problem, and if that’s the case how do I fix it? Because at this point I’m strongly considering all the probabilities and logistics of becoming a recluse. Of just locking all my doors and windows. Maybe buying out some library and keeping myself occupied with fictional characters and stories that won’t leave me. I know this may all sound self aware, but I had a lot of time to think on the drive back and now that I’ve started I can’t stop.”

In the breath he takes after his rant presumably to continue, you sit up, forcing the two of you into a sitting position where you’re facing each other. It was a lot to take in at once, and you had a lot of questions but you realize that the main thing you had to cater to in that moment was the idea and the fear that the people in his life were temporary because of him.

“Stop and breathe for just a second,” you remind him suddenly, forcing his mouth to close with just the fire with which you commanded as you continue, “the way that Gideon left you was unfair, and not right. You know that. And Derek? God, Derek is still in your life. You’re the godfather to his child, Spence. You two might not see each as much, but he is still your brother. It’s okay to feel guilty, sometimes you need a reality check, but this? This is too much. You have to stop beating yourself up for the actions of others. Take responsibility for the things you caused, but don’t bear the burden of others' choices.”

“I know, but-” he begins to say, and you just shake your head suddenly shushing him. Which was immature in hindsight, but you were still a bit tipsy, and he needed to just listen for a second. 

“But what? Nothing,” You say simply, “and your mother? She’s okay. You wouldn’t be here right now if she wasn’t okay. I wouldn’t be here if she wasn’t okay.” Diana had become just as much an important person in your life as she was in Spencer’s. With all of her quirks and problems, she had her moments where she was so intelligent and clear and you had come to love her beautiful twisted brain. You had been there to hold Spencer’s hand when she had bad days. You had been there to hold her hand when she had bad days. You let her read to you books Spencer already had memorized and had recited to you plenty of times. He mouthed along to the words as she read and you were always so struck with how painfully similar the two were.

“And Cat? She’s also nothing,” you lean forward at this, tone stern and firm, an unmoving force when it comes to a certain BAU doctor, “I am your person, and you are mine. She has somehow managed to worm her way into your brain, and stuck herself there like a… like a parasite. Feeding off of you, and your energy, and you just need to let her go. She wasn’t there when you went to prison- she is the reason you went to prison- but I was there. I was there for any potential relapses. I was there for all the coming and going of people. And I will still be here every time you walk out of that door into certain danger, and I will always wait with bated breath for you to come home to me. I’m not going anywhere, Spence, you are my home now. I love you- and I wish there was a less cheesy thing to say right now, but there simply isn’t- and I don’t think I will ever stop loving you until the day I die. Now please, end this. I am real, and she is not. So, please just end this, and come home, Spence.”

He’s looking at you now, pupils moving wildly and searching your face, possibly remembering and reacquainting himself with your features. Just as you’re about to ask him to say something- anything- he surges forward and presses his lips against yours. Pushes your body back against the couch, it remembering and reshaping itself to the familiar contours of your two bodies together. Kissing him felt like breathing again. Felt like drinking a cool bottle of water after running a marathon. Felt like freshly baked cookies out of the oven. Felt like watching the sunrise after marathoning a show together. 

You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until you have to pull apart to breathe. As you catch your breath, he takes his time pressing his lips against the features on your face. Your eyelids, your cupid’s bow, your cheekbones. They’re barely there feather light touches, but they send shivers down your spine regardless.

“I’m home this time, I promise,” he swears against your skin, presses that promise there and keeps it, you silently pray he will actually keep it, “I love you.”

All you can do in response is wind your arms around his waist, and hold him tight against you. Now that he was finally back to you, you weren’t going to be giving him back up any time soon. You were two immovable objects now, coming together like magnets and vibrating on the same wavelength. Beaten down, broken, but still pieced and bound back together by duct tape, glue, and pure love.

And as dysfunctional as it may seem, it felt functional to you. It felt right, and it felt good.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos, likes, and love always appreciated and who knows if i'll write more of spencer during quarantine we shall see. criticism always welcome too!
> 
> once again stay safe ok MWAH many kisses!!


End file.
